Harry Potter: A Certain Ancient Rune Professor of Hogwarts (TL)

Chapter 584: Judgment

On the morning of the first day of the Easter holidays, Felix changed into a plum-coloured robe and looked in the mirror, the colour clearly didn’t suit him, which was evident from the way Valen was giggling and gloating for a while.

He quietly altered a few details, like making the colour a bit darker, and finally reached up and smoothed out the embroidered silver “W” on his left breast, making it barely noticeable.

He had no choice but to wear it, as it had been issued to him when he first became a member of the Wizengamot for his formal court appearance.

Felix walked out of the room and made his way to the headmaster’s office. Knocking on the door, he entered as he looked at Dumbledore behind his desk in surprise – he looked pale, weak and tired, and even the wrinkles on his face had increased by a few.

“Albus, you gave me a fright.” Felix said, instantly associating many things with the situation.

He recalled carefully and noticed that the change seemed to be a gradual transition, not noticeable at first, and he hadn’t noticed it at all. But he hadn’t seen Dumbledore in the last week, so the change became instantly noticeable for him.

“It’s not an easy task to fool Voldemort.” Dumbledore said with a weak smile.

“Well,” Felix had to admit he had a point, “but I am afraid that some of our own people will get spooked first …”

The two appeared in the Ministry of Magic through the fireplace in the Headmaster’s office.

Felix looked around the gleaming main lobby of the Ministry of Magic; he found no remnants of the February battle, but some details did look different: the statues of the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the centre of the entrance hall had changed slightly in position, presumably because the renovation had rebuilt the part that could not be restored by magic.

They made their way to the golden doors at the end of the lobby and met Mad-Eye Moody and Professor Marchbanks, who were waiting for the lift together.

“Been looking forward to this day!” Professor Marchbanks who had her back facing them, spoke to Moody at the top of her lungs, “There is a need to cheer people up, and yes, I’ve noticed some people have become a bit pessimistic lately, I really don’t know what they think, it’s so obvious we’re doing so much better than last time.”

Moody tugged his ears and said gruffly, “You’re right.”

Felix silently slowed his pace, allowing Dumbledore to walk ahead- “Dumbledore?” Professor Marchbanks’ attention shifted away from Moody as she stared intently at Dumbledore’s face, “Your face looks bad! No wonder, the You-Know-Who has been causing trouble out there lately, as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards you must be troubled to no end.”

Dumbledore smiled and agreed.

They took the lift to the ninth level and headed down a dimly lit corridor. Felix glanced at the black door of the Department of Mysteries at the end of his vision and said nothing, then the group turned to the entrance on the left side of the corridor and stepped down the stairs, finally reaching the tenth level.

The sound of talking was heard near the stairs –

“There’s no need to rearrange the sequence.” Ms. Bones said in a somewhat disgruntled voice, “Since those people want to observe, let them stay a few more days.” She heard footsteps and looked up to see a few people, who were walking over as they conversed with bright smiles.

Kingsley nodded at them and left in the opposite direction. The torches perched on the stone walls trailed his shadow in a long, constantly leaping trajectory as he finally disappeared behind a thick wooden door.

On this side, Ms. Bones greeted Dumbledore and enquired about his health with concern and then led them toward their destination.

“You were just talking about the Ministry of Magic from other countries?” Felix asked.

“Yes.” Ms. Bones hummed through her nose as she lowered her voice, ” They have united to apply pressure on us and I more or less had to display some sort of attitude. But they, just like the observers from the International Confederation of Wizards, only have a right to watch, without the ability to voice their opinions and vote.”

“Here it is.”

She stopped in front of a grimy black door and twisted the metal knob, and a cacophony of talking sounded out of the dark room.

There were about three dozen people inside, and Felix narrowed his eyes and spotted a familiar face. He walked over to him, “Damocles?” Damocles Belby, the Potion Master, looked up, first somewhat surprised, then an expression of realization dawned on him.

“Of course, you’re part of the Wizengamot, but I’m not aware since you didn’t attend the first few gatherings.”

Felix chatted with him for a few minutes, and halfway through a couple of wizards sitting on long benches walked over to greet him, but this really isn’t the place for socializing, so they kept it short, and then Felix sat next to Belby, staring with interest at the chained chair placed in the centre alone.

As Felix looked around, he noticed that the seating today was quite sophisticated.

The courtroom was made of black light-absorbing stone and the surrounding light was kept very dim as if to create a deliberately eerie and solemn atmosphere. The overall layout of the room resembles a sunken alcove. It is bordered by benches arranged in a stairway configuration, and there are people sitting sporadically on three of the sides, dressed, like Felix, in peach-coloured robes. These are all members of the Wizengamot.

There were also a few journalists holding quill and parchment dotted through the room, appearing discreet and low-key, being careful even when they spoke. Felix caught a glimpse of Rita Skeeter among them.

He could find familiar faces on three sides of the gallery, but on the last side – at the back of the chained black chair – there were a small group of strangers, dressed formally, but with badges and embroidered inscriptions that showed that they were from different organizations, and Felix knew that these were the so-called “observers” from various Ministries of Magic and International Confederation of Wizards.

Another ten minutes passed and people kept coming in.

“Duk Duk Duk.”

The sound of a cane hitting the floor echoed through the room and Felix looked up to see a thick, bushy-haired man striding in, his cane constantly jabbing the floor; it was Rufus Scrimgeour.

He walked over to Ms. Bones and whispered something to her, and Ms. Bones nodded slightly.

They each found their seats and sat down, ” It is time to begin.” Scrimgeour’s low voice echoed through the courtroom. When Ms. Bones had become Minister of Magic, he had taken the seat she had vacated and at present, he is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

In accordance with custom, he is in charge of presiding over this trial.

His words were like a signal, and as soon as the words left his lips, the door in the corner opened and three men walked in. Two tall, lanky guards entered the courtroom sandwiching a short man, so short that he was carried in mid-air like a little chicken, constantly tapping his toes on the floor.

The guards shoved the short man into a chair in the centre of the room and then stood on either side. The chains on the floor rose high like snakes and the man winced in fear.

“No need for now.” Scrimgeour said, and the chains obediently slumped to the floor. He then started to read a document in a low, unemotional voice: “Bart Hughes, a Norwegian wizard who was formerly charged in his home country for smuggling prohibited commodities and his involvement in two muggle attacks, and he was caught red-handed in February of this year when he was participating in the assault against the British Ministry of Magic. The evidence is strong and conclusive, and your conduct was deplorable – do you intend to refute these charges before sentencing?”

The short man seemed terrified and fidgeted in his chair. Felix could understand him; all around him, most of the men remained hidden in the darkness, the flickering torches occasionally showing a static image: many pairs of eyes staring straight into his eyes and then abruptly disappearing.

There was an occasional “rustling” of papers being leafed through heard in the background. The psychological effect of these elements is indeed very intense.

After a few more seconds –

“If there are no objections -”

“Wait, wait!” The short man suddenly called out, trying to rise from his chair, only to be pinned back by two guards and a golden light erupted from the chains that weighed on the floor, and the man flinched as he curled his body back against the chair. He raised his frightened face and strained his eyes to keep them open to stare at the firelight reflecting off the walls, as he tried to catch Scrimgeour’s position.

He gasped, “I have objections, I do! I, I was under an Imperius Curse-”

Behind him, there was a murmur among the group of observers from various countries.

“What a load of bollocks!” Scrimgeour shouted, his lion’s mane-like brown hair fluttered, “The Ministry of Magic has installed Thief’s Downfalls in front of the fireplaces, and between the various floors, which will wash away the effects of the spells, and if you have indeed been affected by the Imperius Curse, how do you explain the fact that you were knocked down head-on by the Ministry of Magic Auror instead of waking up at the entrance?”

The short man opened his mouth, without being able to utter a single word.

Scrimgeour raised his head and looked around, “The truth is crystal clear, members of the jury, raise your hands if you think he’s guilty-”

The men on the benches raised their arms, the long, upturned shapes of their arms looked very striking in the dim, wavering firelight of the room. The short man slumped helplessly in the chair.

“The charge is proven. Bart Hughes, you are sentenced to ten years imprisonment in Azkaban, at the end of which time the British Ministry of Magic will transfer you to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, where you will continue to atone for the crimes you have committed in your own country!”

“Bang!” The gavel fell heavily.

Bart Hughes was taken away with a disoriented look on his face.

After a brief exchange of words, the guards brought in several black wizards one by one, they were obviously the same group that had attacked the Ministry of Magic, and there was barely any delay before they, like Bart Hughes, were pronounced guilty. It was near noon that the main show began.

Two men who looked somewhat alike were brought in.

“Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange.” Scrimgeour’s low, seething voice trailed off as he said, ” had teamed up with Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. to kidnap an Auror couple at the end of the First War and used the Cruciatus Curse to force them to reveal the whereabouts of the You-Know-Who. The crime was so heinous that they were sentenced to life imprisonment. A year ago they escaped from Azkaban and have since resumed their role as minions and accomplices of the You-Know-Who, and were suspected of being involved in numerous turmoil after that. In February, they were ordered to attack the Future World Company in Diagon Alley by You-Know-Who, and were caught red-handed with conclusive evidence.”

The two men looked pale and the slightly fatter one pulled the corners of his lips as if he wanted to say something, but he only managed to get a muffled quiver out of his mouth.

Scrimgeour didn’t let the jury raise their hands this time, his yellow eyes without a hint of warmth fixed on them, “There is no doubt, ladies and gentlemen, that these two men will be sentenced to life in prison, and their memories will rot there with their bodies.”

More people were brought in.

“Mulciber and Selwyn, Jugson and Nott, you are as guilty as the Lestrange brothers for escaping from prison, murder, and causing havoc, and in accordance with the law, you will be sentenced to life -”

“Wait, wait!” A voice suddenly exclaimed.

The gavel that Scrimgeour had lowered remained frozen in the air, “Selwyn? Do you wish to defend yourself, or plead for forgiveness? After all the evil things you’ve done?”

“I, I confess, I am guilty!” Selwyn licked his lips and stammered, “But I hope the jury will give me another chance – I know some more names -” the tall man next to him suddenly rushed towards him, “You scumbag!” “Guards! Pull him back! Pull Jugson aside.” Scrimgeour growled loudly.

Selwyn cowered in his chair as he said shrilly, ” I am willing to testify!”

“Selwyn!” Jugson yelled as he struggled, “How dare you betray the Dark Lord? Do you think this will be the end? We are just going to be locked up for a while, he’s still out there! Still out there!”

“Take them away! TAKE THEM AWAY!” Scrimgeour yelled. The guards did as they were told, and finally, Selwyn was left alone.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Scrimgeour coldly asked.

“I-” Selwyn looked pale, and it became clear that Jugson’s threat before he left had some effect, and he asked, holding his breath, “You will protect me, won’t you?”

“That depends on the weight of your testimony.” Ms. Bones stated sternly, “We have far more information than you can imagine.”

Selwyn pursed his lips and said, “I understand … I know a person, Umbridge, Dolores Umbridge.”

“She was arrested on the same day as you and is currently undergoing treatment. And we also know that you were the one who introduced her to the You-Know-Who.”

Selwyn’s eyes widened and his body lurched, “No, not possib…”

” Not possible?” Scrimgeour said sternly, “We have solid evidence! You approached her as a relative and promised her the position of Minister of Magic!”

“Impossible!” Selwyn panicked, his gaze constantly shifting, “How could you possibly know that?” A knowing look dawned in his eyes, “I know, you must have another undercover agent! Who is he?”

There was a lot of murmuring, and they – including the journalists and observers – looked at Ms. Bones and Scrimgeour like sharks who had caught the scent of blood, but there were no mood swings on either of their faces. But the conversation managed to get the attention of those all present. Had the Ministry of Magic truly planted a spy covertly a long time ago? And who could it be?

At last. Felix thought to himself.

Scrimgeour did not answer him and the trial continued.

“I know two more!” Selwyn said through clenched teeth, ” Avery! Avery is a Death Eater, and his nephew Chesterton is also one.”

“They’ve been arrested, and if that’s all you know-”

“Wait!” Selwyn’s eyes struggled, he knew quite a few more, but he had to come up with a name that carried a certain amount of weight now and nail it down. “Snape! Severus Snape!”

“He is not part of the discussion, Albus Dumbledore had vouched for him.”

“No, you’ve been tricked by him, I promise–”

“Promise? On what, on your word of honour?” The corners of Scrimgeour’s lips rose up in sarcasm and scorn.

Selwyn wore a look of despair.

In his mind, Snape is absolutely a true Death Eater – because Snape had managed to gain the Dark Lord’s trust in spite of having a great amount of suspicion on himself. That pretty much meant one thing, he is more trustworthy than any other Death Eater.

Only a Death Eaters knows how terrifying the Dark Lord really is, and Selwyn would never have betrayed the Dark Lord if he hadn’t repeatedly demonstrated his ruthlessness towards his underlings.

He stared at Scrimgeour, thinking he is nothing but an utter fool. But there was no way around it, but he still had another card in his hand that could help him.

“Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy! He’s a Death Eater too.” He shouted out recklessly.

Scrimgeour’s yellow eyes held a mixture of disgust and contempt. With a sneer, he said, “You’re out of luck. Someone else also vouched for him, this time it is Mr. Felix Hap.”

The people in the room looked over at Felix, who looked back calmly.

The expression on Selwyn’s face shifted between shock, dumbfounded and incredulous, so it turned out like this. He shouted out of his lungs, “He’s the spy!?”

It all makes sense … the Ministry of Magic is very confident about their source of information, which means that the spy in question stands in sufficiently high rank among the Death Eaters, a list of names flashed through his mind, but he never could have imagined that this man would be Malfoy.

Not just him, but the vast majority of people in the room hadn’t expected it.

The invited journalists’ hearts pounded with excitement. Rita Skeeter’s eyes glowed and her quill danced in a trail of strokes. Big news, absolutely big news! First, the head of the Malfoy family was conclusively proven to be a Death Eater, and then the tables were turned – he was actually a spy.

And this spy, was most likely arranged by Felix Hap, had Malfoy, who called the shots in the wizarding community, worked as a spy … Skeeter was trembling with excitement at the thought of the implications behind it.

The You-Know-Who would definitely be pissed off. She thought as she wrote.

————

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[Just TL rant, so skip it]

2946 words chapter, just 60 more words it would’ve been a 2 in 1 chapter… T.T

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